


Postcards

by kalewrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is a sweetheart, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, World Travelling, tbh the life i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalewrites/pseuds/kalewrites
Summary: Takes place after Civil War. Bucky is your best friend but of course you’re in love with him. He goes off to travel the world and rediscover himself, sending you Postcards along the way, whilst you struggle with your feelings.





	1. Italy

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is super short, but has a point. A drabble series i wrote for Tumblr and decided to post here. Italics are flashbacks.

“Hey Punk, Italy is amazing, I went around all those Pizza places you looked up for me, and Doll you were right. Pizza is so much better here. Venice is beautiful and by far my favourite so far, wish you were here, Bucky”.

63 Days. That’s how long it had been since you last seen him. 63 long ass days.

After the dust settled on the events in Siberia, the world had held its collective breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months until finally there was nothing. A sigh of relief? Maybe not. But the air was no longer a rubber band poised to snap at the slightest exhale of breathe. You travelled with Bucky and Steve to Wakanda, thankful for T'Challa’s generosity in giving you a new place to call home. It was a beautiful country, sure a little beat down and war-torn but at its core, it was spectacular. Exploring the vast landscape surrounding the base is what triggered the change in Bucky.

_ "You know, I’ve been to a lot of places Y/N, seen a lot of the world and yet never really seen it.“ His face turned towards the soft glow of the setting sun,  his face so open and clear you could almost glimpse the man he was before, the man before words and men took pieces of him and forced darkness into his soul. _

_ "So go see them then…” You replied, arching an eyebrow daring him to argue. It had taken a little organising, and a lot of convincing but he had gone in the end. Off to explore the world, T'Challa had spared no expense or resource in helping facilitate it. Guilt weighed heavy on these men, and you had hoped that this trip would help ease some of the burden. _

You pinned the latest postcard on the wall with the rest, knowing T'Challa would visit at some point to hear about Buck’s latest travel tales and loosen that knot is his stomach. He’ll carry what he almost did for a long time, despite Bucky forgiving him long ago.

The deep ache in your gut throbbed as you’re looked over the growing map of postcards on your wall. London, Siena, Brussels, Bangkok, and Beijing the list went on. He was your best friend, and you missed him. Missed him was probably putting it mildly, everything was better when he was with you, brighter, sharper and full of color. You were color-blind without him.  

And therein lies the problem.

You were a fucking idiot. An idiot who stupidly went and fell in love with her best friend, a man who really, desperately needs a friend.

So of course you’d never told him, never uttered a single word about it. You almost did, before he left, but your sense of self-preservation prevailed and your mouth stayed firmly shut.

You didn’t regret at all. Nope


	2. France

"Hey Punk, I’m in Paris now! Can’t help but think of you, I know you want to visit one day. I sent you a box of things; hopefully it’ll arrive with this! PS Frogs legs taste like chicken!! Wish you were here, Bucky.“

The parcel was huge. Ridiculously covered in tape to hold it all together, it was filled to the brim. Trinkets, sweets, photos and every weird thing he had come across. Reaching into the box, you pulled a small white box from the bottom. Opening it, you find a small crystal statue of the Eiffel Tower cushioned in the silk lining of the box, and you heart leaps into your mouth. It was beautiful, the light from your window was bouncing off it and creating rainbowed patterns on your walls. Grabbing your phone, you quickly snap a selfie with it and send it to him with a caption ‘I don’t deserve you’.

_ "Paris! Paris is a must. The Eiffel tower, Arc de Triomphe, The Louvre, urgh just so many things. And the pastries-” He silences you with a hand to your mouth. _

_ "Come with me…“ His eyes wide and pleading, catching you completely off guard. _

_ “B-Bucky…” You pause, searching for the right words, “You told me you wanted to do this on your own. That you needed to figure out who Bucky was again, find yourself in amongst the person you were and the person Hydra made you be. And I completely agree. Have you changed your mind?” _

_ "No - I, it’s just that the way your face lights up when we talk about these places Y/N, you should get to see them too.“ _

_ "And I will. You’ll come back when you’re ready and take me to all your favourites. Okay?” _

_ He captures the back of your neck with his hand and brings your forehead to meet his lips for a soft kiss. “Okay.” _

The vibrating of your phone pulls you from your thoughts. It’s a text from Bucky. You open it and find a picture of him with a pouty face caption 'I miss you doll’.

God, you really regretted not going.


	3. Spain

“Hey Kid, Barcelona was beautiful, Tapas is my new favourite food. Getting to have 4 different things, what’s not to love? I stopped at a small village called Cudillero, you need to look it up, it’s weird and quirky and I know you will fall in love. I miss you. Bucky"　

God, you missed him. Even missed his annoying habits, like how no matter how much food he had at his own place, he’s still end up at yours raiding your fridge and eating the last Twinkie. 

_ "James Buchanan Barnes. Get your perky little ass in here right now.” 　 _

_ Bucky peeked at you from behind the door to the kitchen,  “You think I have a perky butt?"　 _

_ Thwack. 　 _

_ The wrapper you hurl at him smacks against the door, he raises his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay, I give. What did I do this time?"　 _

_ "You ate my last Twinkie, you fucker.” He snorts, and for a moment you cant help grin back at him before you remind yourself your angry with him. You fit your features into more of a scowl and give him The Look. He has the decency to look a little sorry, making his eyes a little wider, a little sadder. 　 _

_ “I'm sorry, doll. I was just hungry, and it was there, and uuhh- I’ll make it up to you?” He pouts at you, emphasising his lips and making your stomach somersault. You blink at him, slow and deliberate, before nodding and glancing away to clear your head. Bedroom thoughts about Bucky, hell no. Except, it happened more often than not now, and your face was an open book. Shit.　 _

_ When you got up the next morning there was 3 packets of Twinkies in your cupboard. 　 _

_ Slippery bastard. Yet, here you were grinning and half-swooning over snacks like it was goddamn romantic.  _

You smile to yourself at that memory. It was probably the first time you realised you had feelings for him, acknowledged them at least. Was there a worse hell than loving your best friend? You didn't think so.

Sooner or later you’d have to deal with it. Later. Definitely later. 


	4. Morocco

“Shit, Y/N. The markets in Marrakech are insane, there’s people charming snakes and spitting fire in amongst the souks. It’s AMAZING. Skype soon? Text me when you get this. Miss you, Bucky.”

Another day, another card from Bucky. You’re wall was resembling some sort of world map at this point, Bucky made sure to send you one from every country, if not most cities. 91 Days down, who knows how many to go. 

You grabbed your phone and sent him a quick text- 

Hey, I hear you miss my face? Skype in an hour? Idk what timezone you’re in anymore!!

Make it 2 hours! Can’t wait to see your beautiful face! :)

God, he was such a flirt. He had no idea what that did to you, your heart stuttering in your chest as you stare intently at the phone. One word from the man and you were jelly, but then, it had always been like that hadn’t it?

_ “I’m gonna miss you so much, Buck.” You squeeze him tighter still, arms wound round his neck like vices, his circle your waist and cling just as hard. _

_ “I know, doll. I’m gonna miss you too. So damn much.” He pulls back a little to rest his forehead on yours,eyes glittering with something unsaid.  _

_ He tips forward ever so slightly, and you think he might kiss you, the moment suspends in time, slowing and blurring till there's only Bucky. Tell him, your heart whispers, say it now. Every doubt you’ve ever had runs like a slideshow through your mind. _

_ “Don’t forget about me, okay Beautiful?” He whispers, the way he looks at you makes your skin tingle. _

_ “Never.” You insist, unwinding your arms so that your hands are resting on his shoulders. You open you mouth but the words won't come. _

_ “Last call for all passengers on Flight A78-HU to Bangkok.” Airport cockblocked.  _

_ “Shit, I gotta go.” He says, eyes flitting between your eyes and mouth, “I’ll call you when I land.” _

_ One last squeeze and he’s gone.  _

The more you think about that moment, the more you wanna ask him about it. Maybe now is time, when he calls you, just ask him. Face to face on Skype is better than nothing right? The selfish side of you wonders if he’ll come home. The insecure side wonders if this will be the last time you ever speak to him. 

Shit. Shit. Okay. 

Time to tell him you have feelings for him. No sense dropping the L Word till you get a feel for his state of mind.


	5. Location Unknown

“Sorry I bailed on you, doll. Are you free in an hour? I promise this time. Pinky swearsies.”

You breathe out a heavy sigh, conflicted in how to feel. You’d waited around for 2 hours last time, working up the nerve to finally tell him how you feel and he never called. You’d gone to bed utterly deflated. 

“As long as it’s Pinky Swearsies.”

_ “Okay, so according to this site, there’s at least 3 secret islands that are a must see in the Philippines. As well as Palawan and Boracay.” _

_ “Lemme see.” Bucky leans in towards the screen to get a closer look, hovering just inches from your face. You breathe in, letting the scent of him settle over you, sort of like Sandalwood with a hint of metallic to it. It was intoxicating. _

_ “Did you just sniff me?” Bucky’s lips curl up at the edge, a playful glint in his eye. _

_ “W-what? No!” Your voice raises a few octaves and it’s got you mentally slapping yourself. _

_ “Yea you did, you weirdo.” His mouth pulls wide into a full smirk, he bumps his shoulder against yours. _

_ “Urgh, fine, you smell good o-kay?” You concede, knowing there’s no way around it. You full on sniffed the guy.  _

_ He leans right in and runs his nose up your neck to your jawline, breathing in as he goes, “Mmm, so do you.” _

_ A laugh bubbles up your throat at the strange turn the conversation has taken, which is matched by Bucky. You laugh until there’s tears, sore sides and a lightness in the air you can never quite obtain with anyone else. Gaining your composure, your eyes slip over to Bucky, taking in the soft crinkles of his eyes held behind so much kindness.  _

_ “Hey Buck…” You begin, a thought leading way to a feeling and now there’s a rock in your stomach, “You’ll come back, right?” _

_ “Oh doll, I’ll always come back for you.,” His face is sincere, he grips your wrist in his hand, lifting so that its hovering in the space between you, “Pinky swearsies?” _

_ “You mean Pinky swear?” You hold out your pinky anyway, a smile fighting back onto your face. _

_ “I like my way better.” He links his pinky with yours and you both stare down at them, the physical representation of your bond.  _

After that, Pinky Swearsies was only used in special circumstances. You could try to be mad at him, but you were never gonna manage it. The damn man had a side door straight into your heart. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand, it’s Bucky on Skype, had it really been an hour already? You hastily pat your hair into some form of order before swiping to answer the call.

“There’s that beautiful face.” His face literally lights up your screen, and maybe possibly your heart. _ Tell him. Tell him now. _

“Hey Buck.” You smile softly at him, his face sporting that signature grin and healthy dose of sun.

“So listen, about last night?”- ”So I had something I wanted to talk to you-” You both rush out at the same time, halting mid-sentence

“You go first, Buck.” 

“Okay, so, long story short. I met someone.”  

The words were loaded into a gun and shot straight through your heart.   


	6. Barbados

“Hey Punk! Took a detour to Barbados and IT IS EPIC! I did not know how much I would love the beach! Gabriella spent an hour last night picking sand outta the slates in my arm! I forgot how much sand just gets EVERYWHERE! Anyways, I miss you. Bucky”

You stare down at the postcard in your hand, the first time you've ever wished he never mailed it to you, and will yourself not to cry. What was this? Some sort of Karmic justice for breaking the law and partially ruining that airport? Whatever it was, it fucking sucked. 

You finger rubs back and forth over her name. Gabriella. God, she even sounds pretty. 

_ “You met someone?” The words are thick in your throat, choking you. _

_ Bucky babbles on, oblivious to your torment, “Yeah, her name is Gabriella, she’s gonna take me to Brazil and show me around. She’s amazing, you’d love her!” _

_ “Oh-Uh, that's great Buck. I’m happy for you.” The words taste heavy in your mouth and you all but force them out.  _

_ He doesn’t hear you, he’s too busy telling you about the camel ride he took over sand dunes just outside Marrakech, and that the Chicken Tagine is to die for, and they sure do like their Olives there. The words all melt together as you concentrate on keeping that smile on your face. You feel like you’ve just been gutted, clutching at your stomach to keep your insides from spilling out.  _

_ “Wait, I think that’s Gabby back, you wanna meet her?” _

_ “Uh- I can’t... I have to go. Maybe another time.” _

_ “Okay, beautiful.” He smiles at you but you barely notice, “Hey. Y/N. I miss you.” _

_ “Miss you too, Buck.” You fight past the lump in your throat, working to get the words out, working to end the call so you can let go.  _

That had been a week ago. Seven days. Seven long, horrible days. 

You were lost, drifting, no longer a steady purpose to your days. You’d been waiting, waiting, for Bucky to come home, passing the time until your life began again. Steve was gone on a mission, you avoided T’Challa, immersing yourself in your own little bubble.

Was this it? Did you really miss you chance with Bucky?


	7. Brazil

Hey Punk, In Brazil now with Gabby, her family are pretty great! Rio is something else, it’s Carnival right now and the place is CRAZY! Haven’t heard from you in a while, did you forget me already? Wish you were here, really, Bucky. 

You fight the urge to crumple the postcard in your hand. Huffing out a sigh, you reach up and pin it to the board with the rest of them, running a hand over the others, Paris, London. You’d give anything to go back to them, to grasp your moment with two fists and yank it close. 

But you were a coward, and you missed it, the moment. Now he’d gone and found himself a Brazilian beauty to marry and have beautiful brazilian babies. Ok, so you were being a little dramatic but damn it hurt. 

A throat clearing snaps your attention to the door, where T’Challa is resting against the frame, a frown etched on his face.

“He wonders why you don’t respond. What is going on, Y/N?” The deep timbre of his voice appears louder in here, where you’ve been holed away for the last few weeks, avoiding everything. 

“Nothing, T’Challa. I’ve just been busy that’s all, I’ve text him later.” Your voice sounds falsey chipper, and you can tell he doesn't buy it. 

“Come. Have dinner with me.” He stretches out a hand, expectant.

You sigh, acknowledging that you could probably do with getting out for a while, actually speak to people. Slipping your hand into his, you let him lead you out the room and down to the dining room. It was a beautiful room, filled with so much of Wakanda’s history, each tapestry hung on the wall telling a tale of each of the Blank Panthers through history. 

_ “Holy shit, Y/N. Are you seeing this place? It’s so fucking cool.” Bucky is practically darting from room to room like an excited labrador. Your eyes roll of their own accord. _

_ “Yes Buck, I’m literally standing next to you.” You say, eyes roaming the expanse of the tapestry in front of you.  _

_ “I'm sorry,” He laughs, “This place, it's just, it has so much history...ya know?”  _

_ This Bucky, he was new to you. It felt like only weeks ago he was the quiet, edgy Bucky sharing the backseat to Steve's idea of lowkey. It took a while for his walls to come down, and now those walls were all but nonexistent. His face was so open, so free right in that moment and it  warmed you to your toes.  _

_ “Yeah Bucky, I know.” _

Steve went to work almost immediately, with the help of T'Challa, forever the Captain America even without his shield. You had been injured during the fight with Tony and had spent the first few weeks recovering, which is how you and Bucky had gotten so close. He'd been there every step of the way. 

You sigh and run a hand roughly over your face, thinking about this wasn't helping. 

“What is bothering you, Y/N?” T’Challa’s voice snaps you from your thoughts, followed by a rush of guilt at what a terrible dinner guest you were being, “And why are you ignoring your soldier?” 

“Urgh, I'd need at least a bottle of tequila to go there T.”

“Fine, if that's what it takes.”

Several hours,  _ had it been hours? _ , later you were sitting in your room facing an exceptionally blurry T'challa. Your head is fuzzy and heavy, forcing it back against the wall behind you to stay upright. He's laughing at something you said, or you think he is, and you fall in right beside him. Bucky thoughts are muted, temporarily silenced by the Goddess Tequila. 

“Y/N, I cannot declare today Tequila day, not matter how you argue it.” Ah, that's what you were saying. Tequila day does sound good, you give yourself a mental pat on the head. 

“You are King. Technically, you can do what you want.” The words are slower, fatter as you force your tongue to cooperate 

“You are a terrible influence.” He laughs again, full-bellied and the sound is entrancing. 

Terrible influence. Perhaps? A thought is pushing at you, working its way into the forefront of your brain. It stays and it yells, and T'Challa’s word choice lights it up like a neon sign across your eyes. 

You tip yourself forward, and forward still, until your crawling onto his lap.

“Terrible influence? I can do that.” You say before pushing forward and letting your lips connect with his. 


	8. Argentina

"WHERE ARE YOU? I know you're alive, my sources confirmed it. I miss you so fucking much."

It’s a postcard from Buenos Aires, Argentina. You heart thumps, slow and sad in your chest. Guilt was eating away at you and it was high time you got yourself together. So he had a girlfriend, big deal. Were you really gonna lose him as a friend over it? No. Because living without Bucky just wasn't an option. You type out a quick text

"Hey! I’m so sorry Bucky, I’m such an ass. Please forgive me, I miss you."

You had no idea how you would explain it, but god you had to try at least. He deserved a little happiness, and you would get over him eventually. Maybe.

You don't doubt for a second that his ‘source’ was T’Challa. That honest to god saint of a man, you seriously owed him.

_You slide your lips against his, hoping to feel something, anything, except the ache in your gut but there’s nothing. It just makes it worse, his lips are soft and perfect but they're not his lips. It’s a beat before you realise he’s not kissing you back, his fingers grip over your shoulders and gently push you back._

_“Shit, I’m sorry T.” You push back onto you haunches, mentally trying to peel your own face off, “ Fuck, fuck fuck.”_

_He grabs your hands, stopping them from rubbing the skin on your face raw and settles them within his on your lap._

_“Are you ready to talk about what this is really about?” He knows. Of course he knows._

_“Bucky. He uh- he met someone. And i'm trying T, I really am, but it’s so hard.”_

_“And this, what was this?” He nods between you, the edge of his lips curving a little._

_“Uhh...an experiment?”_

_“And?”_

_“Like kissing my brother.” You whisper, hoping he isn't banking on anything else._

_“Oh, thank god. That was- yes, uncomfortable.” The sheer relief in his face is palpable, so much so you’d be offended if you didn’t feel the same._

_You both crack up, tequila fueled but genuine nevertheless, laughing until you can’t remember why you were sad in the first place. T’Challa was a Saint alright._

_He rights himself first, smiling at you with sad edges, “You know Y/N, my father once told me - ‘If you love someone, tell them. For hearts are often broken by words left unspoken.’ and he was not wrong. Tell him.“_

It had been a few days and he’d kept an eye on you ever since, keeping you company and giving you the ‘Tell Him’ looks whenever he could. Bucky was finally happy right? You couldn't destroy that, even if it destroyed you.

You pin the postcard on the ever expanding wall and glance at your phone. Still no reply. Was he mad? You heart double-dips at that thought. He had every right to be, you suppose. You eye catches on the time and you realise T’Challa will be by to pick you up for dinner soon. You hastily tie your hair up and out of your face and pull on something a little more...presentable.

Just as you're pulling your T-Shirt over your head there's a knock at the door. You walk blindly towards it, still tugging the Tee over the wild mane of hair, and swing it open.

“Just a sec, T, I gotta grab shoes.”

“Hi, beautiful."


	9. New York

Bucky. Bucky was here. Standing in your doorway with the biggest shit-eating grin and you can do nothing but stare, mouth wide and eyebrows reaching for your hairline.

 

“You just gonna stand there and catch flies?” He says, smile turning lop-sided and uncertain.

 

You blink, and blink again, and then kick into action. Throwing yourself at him, you land against him with a  _ thmmpf  _ and lock arms around him, he catches you easily, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing deeply. 

 

“Still smell so good.” His voice is a little muffled against your neck, but it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard. 

 

You separate a little and you stare, you know you're staring and you just can't help it. He’s here. Bucky’s here and it feels like a piece of your soul is finally home. Your mouth opens and closes as you struggle to catch up, half formed thoughts gone before you can process them. 

 

“Listen, before we talk, and  _ we will _ talk, here. These are yours.” He thrusts a stack of cards at you and walks around you to plant himself on the couch, boots and jacket discarded like he’d never left. 

 

You thumb through the cards he gave you, realising they are all postcards from his trip you cast him a confused look. Did he send you all of them? He nods at them, encouragement to keep going so you flip the first one over, noting that they are from stops you never got Postcards from

 

_ "Y/N, I’m in Dublin and I miss you so much. I went to the Guinness Factory like you said and spend the whole time wondering why the fuck I left without you. I keep thinking about your lips, I miss those fucking lips. I keep thinking about how they might taste. Your lips haunt me, Y/N. Every single day." _

 

Well, fuck.

 

_ "I’m in Brussels and there’s this Chocolate Bar that I just know you’d love. What the fuck am I doing here without you? I’m a fucking idiot. A spineless one. We skyped today and I swear you're even more beautiful now than when I left." _

 

You heart thumps away in your chest, drowning out everything but the Postcards. 

 

_ "Prague is so fucking beautiful it makes me ache. One of these day’s i’ll grow the balls to send you these Postcards and admit it all. Admit that I broke Rule #1. Until then, I’ll remind you every time we talk that I FUCKING MISS YOU." _

 

WHAT THE FUCK IS RULE #1

 

_ "Agadir is so vibrant. Gabby and I are travelling together now. She’s straight up bored of me talking about you, she tells me at least 5 times a day that she has bigger balls than me. Maybe she’s right? I should tell you right? But you’d been so distracted on the skype call earlier, I’m scared out of my mind you’ve found someone." _

 

Tell you what? Your brain pushes thoughts front and centre, but you can’t, you won’t hope. 

 

_ "WHAT THE FUCK Y/N? You haven't replied in 2 weeks. I’m going out of my mind here. Gabby told me I’m being an ass again, am I? I don’t expect you to wait around for me, but i sure hope you do. Shit...I am being an ass. I just miss you so goddamn much." (São Paulo) _

 

It’s getting harder to read, your hands are shaking a little at the flood of adrenaline hitting your system. 

 

_ "Shit. Now I’m terrified to come home. Do you even miss me anymore? "(Rosario)  _

 

You flip to the next, the last, one and start a little at the picture. New York.

 

_ "I literally just bought this at the airport because I didn’t have time to text you. T’Challa finally let slip why you were ignoring me. I’ve never boarded a plane so fucking fast in my life." _

 

He watches you intently, waiting for you to get to the end, “So, let's talk.” 


	10. Home

You stare at it, willing more words to form on the card. Does he-? There’s so many things whirring through your mind you try to put them into order, arrange them into something you can ask. 

 

“I can almost hear your mind working away from here, Y/N.” He laughs from the couch, patting the space beside him, “What’s got the look on our face?”

 

“I don’t understand-” You begin, but then trail off as you fight to decide exactly which part to begin with. 

 

Does it all mean what you think it means? It wasn't exactly spelled out. What happened to Gabby? And who is she? And when was he in New York? 

 

He stands and makes his way over to you, gently taking the postcards from you and placing them on your coffee table.  

 

“What don't you understand? Be very clear, because I think that's part of the problem with us.” 

 

“Um…” Do you have feelings for me? Who is Gabby? “When were you in New York?” You sigh, that wasn't really what you wanted to ask. It was just the easiest.

 

Bucky laughs, like really laughs, probably at the absurdity of the question given his chosen words, “Seriously, that's what you're going with?” 

 

He grins and his mouth is pulled wide with it, full and genuine and your heart stumbles over it. He backs you up till you're pressed against the wall, boxed in between the warm push of his chest and the hard cold of the wall. His arms cage you even further, the Henley he's wearing doing nothing to hide the thick, ropey muscles in his arms that you can't help but glance over. His eyes darken when he notices you glance, the grin slipping into something a little different. 

 

“You sure that's what you wanna ask?” He says, his voice low and full of promise. 

 

You shake you head, unable to manipulate your mouth into forming anything that resembles an answer. The postcards, him being here, the flood of how your body responds to him, it's all too much and you mind literally empties itself leaving nothing but static. You latch onto something, anything to say.

 

“My lips?” You whisper it, a question somehow that you'd thought differently.

 

“Mmm Hmm.” He hums, reaching down to brush his thumb over your bottom lip, “These lips, shit, I love these lips.” 

 

You almost hear the audible click of your brain switching off. 

 

“Let me be absolutely clear, doll, because one of us should. I. Want. You. I'm using every single ounce of willpower not to just taste those lips right now. But I gotta hear it from you.” 

 

“Shit, Bucky. I want you too.” You force it out, as your stomach dislodges from your body. Want pools in the empty space, filling out to your fingertips and licking waves up your spine.  He dips his head to hover just over your lips and you push forward a little to meet him before a thought scratches at the inside of your head. 

 

“Wait. What about Gabby?” He exhales in frustration at the almost kiss,  _ believe me pal I'm right there with ya _ , before glancing down as he fumbles in his pocket for something. 

 

The silence feels weighted, and as the seconds tick by your heart starts to seize. 

 

“You know how I always say you do the thing where you daydream? Stare and nod in all the right places but don't actually listen?” He slides his phone free and starts to fiddle with it, “I knew you did it the last time we skyped, but I never realised why until T’Challa said.” 

 

He flips the phone round to show you a picture of him and two beautiful woman, “Before you give me that face, that's Gabby…” He indicates the brunette with the sun kissed skin, “And that's her girlfriend Lina, who she was visiting when we met.” He indicates the other woman, beautiful black hair and flawless olive skin.

 

It takes a few seconds, but finally the world  _ girlfriend  _ registers to sound of fireworks and trumpets and the heavens singing. He was never hers. He wants you, and he was never hers. 

“Oh.” You whisper, thinking of all the time wasted being mad at him when he had always been yours.

 

“Yeah. I did tell you that, ya know?” 

 

“M’Sorry. I sorta stopped paying attention after you said you met someone.” You admit, ducking your head a little.

 

“Yeah and if you’d listened, you’d know I said ‘I met someone who is going to show me around Brazil’.” His phone is slipped back into his pocket, hand coming up to trace along your jawline, “Can’t be too mad. At least it got us to here.”

 

His fingers grip gently and tilt your head as he tips forward to slide his lips over yours. He kisses you, kisses you deep and thorough, like he's memorizing every detail of you, every inch of you taken apart. He kisses you like it's a privilege to do so, like he’s  _ grateful  _ and you’ve never been kissed like it.  Your lips yield to his, letting him lead and take his fill, the push and pull of the kiss setting you whole body alight with with the delicious combination of love and lust.  

 

When you break, you're both glittering and breathless. 

 

“Hey Beautiful.” He whispers, voice ragged and catching.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Just, ya know, so we are absolutely 100% clear...I’m in love with you.”


	11. Epilogue: Paris

**Hey T! Paris has been life changing, I’ve never been anywhere so full of hope before. I miss you and your deadly Tequila! Hope Wakanda is still in one piece without me ;) Y/N**

T'Challa smiled softly at the words you had written, happiness threatening to burst from his chest that you were finally happy and hopeful. In truth, his heart was lighter than it had been since his father died. He was finally feeling a sense of peace, forgiven himself and over the worst of the grief. You had helped him in ways that even you did not know. You and the Sergeant had taken a few weeks to explore the new side of your relationship before disappearing off to see the world, this time together, and it was those weeks he remembered the true beauty in love and life. He witnessed the way Bucky would look at you, like you were his sun, the feeling mirrored in your own face and he realised that healing was possible. That is someone has terribly broken as Bucky could feel that way again, he had a new sense of hope for himself.

He was glad of his part in bringing you together.

_ T'Challa glances down to his phone as it buzzes again for the 3rd time, he throws an apologetic smile at his advisors before picking it up to read the messages he was being bombarded with. _

_ T where is Y/N? _

_ She hasn’t answered my texts in like a week? _

_ T'CHALLA! _

_ Answer me cat boy. _

_ This was not good. He knew how close the two of you were, so for you to be ignoring Bucky there had to be something wrong and he was instantly worried. A little guilty too if he were entirely honest with himself, he’d been busy with his duties to his country and hadn’t stopped by to see you in a while. _

_ After getting to the root of the problem, granted it took a few too many tequilas and an uncomfortable kiss he’s likely to never forget, he’s satisfied that you are okay for the most part but can’t stop thinking about how stupid you both were being. He knew how Bucky felt about you, so there was no way he had moved on. Strumming his fingers on his desk, he can’t help glance at his phone every so often. He could always tell Bucky… but you’d made him promise. _

_ Damn. _

_ Deciding he just can’t help himself, he quickly dials Bucky’s number. _

_ “T, everything okay?” Panic bleeds into Bucky’s voice when he answers, assuming all the wrong things. _

_ “Everything is fine, my friend. Don’t worry.” T'Challa soothes, “I called about your texts.” _

_ “Oh. OH, okay, so what’s going on? Did I do something?” _

_ “I think perhaps you and Y/N need to have a frank discussion, James. You need to tell her how you feel. It’s time.” _

_ “Uhh…I don’t think so-” Bucky scoffs.“Think about it James, what was the last thing you told her?” _

_ “Uh, about Gabby? Wait- you think she’s jealous? Gabby has a girlfriend!” Bucky’s voice pitches a little, but T'Challa hears the hope anyway. _

_ “Are you certain Y/N knows this?” _

_ “Oh. Shit… T, can you get me a ticket? I’m coming home.” _

T'challa hangs the postcard on his wall, the same way you did for Bucky’s. There’s only a couple so far, but he expected he would be getting them for a long time.

His phone buzzes again, he swipes it open to reveal a picture message from you. In it, you and Bucky are standing on a bridge, the railings filled with locks, Bucky kneeling in front of you with your hand clasped within his. The look on your face tells an entire story.

Captioned: Be my Maid of Honor?


End file.
